The Bones Of Odin (Matt Drake 1) (19 page)

Frey locked eyes with Drake. “And you, Matt Drake!” his gun arm trembled. “You cost me almost
everything!
I’ll take her from you.
I will!
And she’ll pay. Oh, how she’ll pay!”
Before he could assimilate that, Frey aimed the gun between Drake’s eyes and fired.

*****

Kennedy raced into the room to see the SAS men fall to their knees, motioning for silence. She saw before her a group of masked men, clad in body-armour, angling their weapons into what she could only think was Davor Babic’s secret vault.

Luckily, the men hadn’t spotted them.

Wells looked back at her and mouthed: “Who?”

Kennedy made a confused face. She could hear someone ranting, she could see his side profile, the .45 he held waving inexpertly. When she heard him scream the name
Matt Drake
she knew, and Wells knew, and a few seconds later they opened fire.

In the sixty seconds of gunfire that followed, Kennedy saw it all in slow motion. The man in white firing his .45, her shot arriving a split-second later and tugging the side of his coat as it passed through the hanging material. His shocked face as he turned. The puffy, slack softness of it.

A pampered man.

Then the masked men - spinning and firing. SAS soldiers squeezing off well-placed shots with precision and composure. More fire coming from inside the vault. American voices. German voices. English voices.

Sluggish chaos, like the poetic tones of Taylor Swift mixed with the archaic rock of Metallica. She hit at least two of the Germans - others fell. The guy in white screamed and waved his arms, and made his crew beat a hasty retreat. Kennedy saw them covering him and dying in the process, falling like decay from a wound, but the wound lived on. In the end he escaped into a back room, with only four of his men alive.

Kennedy raced desperately down the corridor, a strange lump in her throat, an ice-pick in her heart, not even realising how worried she was until she saw Drake alive and felt a cooling flood of elation wash through her.

*****

Drake picked himself up off the floor, thankful that Abel Frey’s aim had been every bit as loose as his grasp over reality. The first thing he saw was Kennedy rushing down the steps, the second her face as she rushed up to him.

“Thank God you’re alright!” she cried, and gave him a hug before remembering her reserve.

Drake stared into Wells’ knowing eyes before closing his own. He held her for a moment, feeling her slim body, her powerful frame, her fragile heart beating against his own. Her head was nestled against his neck, the sensation wonderful enough to send tingles across his synapses.

“Hey, I’m good. You?”

She pulled away, smiling.

Wells came up to them and locked away his sly smile for a minute. “Drake. Strange place to meet up again, old mate, and not the corner pub in Earls Court I had in mind. I have a few things to tell you, Matt. Things about Mai.”

Drake was momentarily thrown. Wells had said the very last thing he had expected. After a second he noticed Kennedy’s fading smile, and took control. “The Valkyries,” He pointed. “C’mon, while we have chance.”

But the Delta commander was already organising it and beckoning them. “This ain’t England, guys. Let’s get movin’. I’ve had about all the Hawaii I can handle on this vacation.”

TWENTY-NINE

AIRSPACE

Drake, Kennedy, and the rest of the assault team rendezvoused with Ben and Hayden several hours later at a military base near Honolulu.

Time passed. Red tape was cut. Bumpy roads were smoothed over. Governments bickered, then sulked, then finally started talking. Jumped up bureaucrats were appeased with the political equivalent of milk and honey.

And the end of the world drew ever closer.

The real players talked and worried and reasoned, and slept in a badly air-conditioned series of buildings near Pearl Harbor. Drake immediately assumed that Ben’s pensive greeting meant they had little progress to report on the hunt for the next Piece of Odin - His Eyes. Drake concealed his surprise; he had truly believed that Ben’s expertise and motivation would have cracked the clues by now.

Hayden, the Secretary of Defence’s sharp-witted assistant, had been helping him but they had made little progress.

Their single hope was that the other apocalyptic contestants - the Canadians and the Germans – were faring little better.

Ben’s attention had initially been broken by Drake’s revelation.

“Abel Frey?
The German mastermind? Bog off, dickhead.”

“Seriously, mate. Would I lie to you?”

“Don’t quote Whitesnake at me, Matt. You know our band have a problem playing their music, and it’s not funny. I just can’t believe . . . Abel Frey?”

Drake sighed. “Here I go again. Yes. Abel Frey.”

Kennedy backed him up. “I saw him and I still want to tell Drake to stop spouting bullshit. The guy’s a recluse. Has a place in the German Alps - the ‘Party Chateau’. Supermodels. Money. A superstar life.”

“Wine, women and song,” Drake said.

“
Stoppit!”
Ben said. “In a way,” he mused, “it’s the perfect cover.”

“Easy to fool the ignorant when you’re famous,” Drake agreed. “You get to choose your destination - wherever you want to go. Smuggling must be easy for those people. Just find your ancient artefact, choose your diplomatic suitcase, and . . .”

“. . . Slide it in.” Kennedy finished seamlessly, and turned laughing eyes on Ben.

“You two should . . .” he spluttered. “. . .You two should get a fuckin’ room.”

Wells came over at that moment. “This Abel Frey thing . . . it’s been decided to keep it low-key for now. Watch and wait. We’re putting an army around his chateau, but we’re giving him free reign, in case he ends up knowing something
we don’t.”

“On the surface that’s sound,” Drake began, “but-”

“But he has my sister,” Ben hissed. Hayden held up a hand to calm him. “They’re right, Ben. Karin’s safe . . . for now. The world isn’t.”

Drake narrowed his eyes, but held his tongue. To protest would achieve nothing. It would only help distract his friend even more. Again, he had trouble fathoming Hayden out. Was it his new-found cynicism eating at him? Had she thought quickly for Ben, or had she thought prudently for her government?

Either way, the answer was the same. Wait.

Drake changed the subject. He probed another one close to Ben’s heart. “How are your mum and dad?” he asked carefully. “They cottoned on yet?”

Ben gave an anguished sigh. “No, mate. Last call, they mentioned her, but I said she’d snagged a second job. It’ll help, Matt, but not for long.”

“I know.” Drake eyed Wells and Hayden. “As leaders here, you two should help.” Then, without waiting for a reply he said: “What news on Heidi and Odin’s Eyes?”

Ben shook his head in disgust. “Plenty,” he complained. “There’re snippets everywhere. Here - listen to this: to drink from Mimir’s Well - the Well of Wisdom in Valhalla - everyone must offer up a critical sacrifice. Odin sacrificed his
Eyes
, symbolizing his willingness to gain knowledge of events both current and future. Upon drinking he foresaw all the trials that would affect men and Gods throughout eternity. Mimir accepted Odin’s Eyes, and they lie there still, a symbol of what even a God must pay for a glimpse of ultimate wisdom.”

“Okay,” Drake shrugged. “Standard historical stuff, yeah?”

“True. But it’s
all
like that. The
Poetic Edda,
the
Saga of Flenrich,
another I have translated as
The Many Travelled Paths of Heidi.
They explain what happened, but they don’t tell us where the Eyes are now.”

“In Valhalla,” Kennedy made a face.

“That’s the Norse word for Heaven.”

“Not a chance
I’ll
ever find ‘em then.”

Drake considered it all. “And there’s nothing else? Jesus, mate, this is the last Piece!”

“I’ve followed Heidi’s path - her travels. She visits the places we know of, and then returns to her home. This isn’t Playstation, mate. No side trips, no hidden achievements, no alternate paths, zilch.”

Kennedy took a seat beside Ben and shook her hair out. “Could she have deposited two Pieces in one location?”

“It’s possible, but it wouldn’t play well with what we know so far. The other clues, followed over many years, have all pointed to one Piece in each place.”

“So you’re saying
that’s
our clue?”

“The clue has to be Valhalla,” Drake said quickly. “It’s the only phrase that hints to a place. And I remember you said something earlier about Heidi telling Odin she knew where his
Eyes were hidden
, ‘cos he spilled all his secrets whilst hanging on the cross.”

“Tree,” Torsten Dahl entered the room at that moment. The Swede looked worn, more battle weary from the administrative side of his job than the physical. “Odin hung on the World Tree.”

“Whoops,” Drake muttered. “Same story. Is that coffee?”

“Macadamia,” Dahl looked smug. “The best Hawaii has to offer.”

“Thought that was Spam,” said Kennedy demonstrating her New Yorker condescension.

“Spam is widely loved in Hawaii,” Dahl agreed. “But coffee rules all. And Kona Macadamia Nut is king.”

“So you’re saying that Heidi knew where Valhalla was?” Hayden tried her best to look confused rather than sceptical as Drake signalled someone to bring them more coffee.

“Yes, but Heidi was human. Not a God. So what she would have experienced was a
worldly
Heaven?”

“Sorry, dude,” Kennedy joked. “Vegas wasn’t founded ‘til 1905.”

“
To a Norsewoman.”
Drake added, trying not to smile.

Silence followed. Drake watched Ben mentally clicking through everything he’d scrutinized so far. Kennedy pursed her lips. Hayden accepted a tray of coffee mugs. Wells had long since retired to a corner, feigning sleep. Drake remembered his intriguing words -
I have a few things to tell you. Things about Mai.

Time for that later, if at all.

Ben laughed as he shook his head. “It’s easy. Christ, so easy. A person’s heaven is . . . their home.”

“Exactly. The place she lived. Her village. Her hut,” Drake affirmed. “My thoughts too.”

“Mimir’s well lies
inside
Heidi’s village!” Kennedy looked around, excitement shining in her eyes, then gave Drake a playful punch. “Not bad for a grunt.”

“I’ve grown some real brain since I quit.” Drake watched Wells flinch a bit. “Best move of my life.”

Torsten Dahl rose to his feet. “To Sweden then, for the final Piece.” He looked pleased to be heading back to his homeland. “Umm . . . where was Heidi’s home?”

“Ostergotland,” Ben said, without checking. “Also home to Beowulf and Grendel - the place where they still talk of monsters roaming the lands at night.”

THIRTY

LA VEREIN, GERMANY

La Verein, the Party Chateau, was located south of Munich, near the Bavarian border.

Like a fortress, it hunched halfway up a gentle mountain, its walls crenulated and even pocked with arrow-loops in various places. Round-topped towers perched at either side of the arched gate, and a wide sweeping drive allowed expensive motor cars to arrive in style and discard their latest sensations, just as hand-picked Paparazzi knelt down to snap their photos.

Abel Frey took a turn through the party, glad-handing several of the more important guests and ensuring his models behaved how they were supposed to. A pinch here, a murmur there, even a rare joke, kept them all performing to his expectations.

Inside the private alcoves he pretended not to notice the white trails laid out on knee-high glass tables, executives bending with straws up their nostrils. Models and well-known young actresses wearing baby-dolls made of satin, silk and lace. Pink flesh, moaning, and the heady scent of lust. Fifty-inch plasmas showing MTV and hardcore porn.

Live music pumped through the Chateau, Slash and Fergie - singing ‘Beautiful Dangerous’ on stage far away from these decadent rooms - the upbeat rock music sparking even more life into Frey’s already dynamic party.

The fashion designer left without being noticed, and headed up a grand staircase towards a quiet wing of the Chateau. Another flight and his guards closed a secure door behind him, accessible only through key-combination and voice-recognition. He entered a room bristling with communications equipment and a bank of High-Def TV screens.

One of his most trusted geeks said: “Good timing, sir. Alicia Myles is on Sat-phone.”

“Excellent, Hudson. Is she encrypted?”

“Of course, sir.”

Frey accepted the proffered device, curling his lip at being forced to put his mouth so close to where his lackey had already sprayed spittle.

“Myles, this better be good. I have a house full of guests to attend to.” The lie of convenience didn’t register as a fabrication to him. It was simply what these low-lives needed to hear.

 “Worth a bonus I’d say,” the well-bred English tones said ironically. “I have the web-address and password to Parnevik’s locator.”

“All part of the deal, Myles. And you already know there’s only one way
you’re
getting a bonus.”

“Milo not around?” The tone had changed now. Throatier.
Naughtier. . .

“Just me and my top geek.”

“Mmm . . . invite him too if you like,” her voice changed. “But sadly I have to be quick. Log on to
www.locatethepro.co.uk
, and type the lowercase password: bonusmyles007,” a laugh. “Thought you’d appreciate that one, Frey. A standard tracker format should come up. Parnevik is programmed as number four. You should be able to track him anywhere.”

Abel Frey saluted in silence. Alicia Myles was the best operative he’d ever used. “Good enough, Myles. When the Eyes are secured, you’re off the leash. Come back to us then, and bring us the Canadians’ Pieces. Then we’ll . . . talk.”